


The Campsite Rule

by Scotty6



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Cheating, F/M, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 12:50:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6611254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scotty6/pseuds/Scotty6
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantire catches Enjolras cheating. If you're looking for heartbreak this is it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Black Paint and House Keys

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry.

Grantaire was walking towards Enjolras’ apartment nearing midnight with lit cigarette in his hand. He had quit quite a long time ago but this night was just not playing in his favor. He was just having a really fucking stressful day and all he wanted to do was to go to his boyfriend’s house to cuddle and watch tv on the couch they picked out together.

He'd been working on an art piece for the past two weeks that is coming along horribly and life is just not that great at this very moment. Grantaire lives and breathes art, so when his art is suffering, so is he. He had tried to call Enjolras to let him know he was coming but it went straight to voicemail which frustrated him even more. Even if he wasn't there he could just let himself in with his key and wait for him there, wrapped in a blanket.

As he came towards the steps of his apartment complex, Grantaire bent to put his cigarette out on the ground and threw it into the garbage can that was chained to a flag pole. He's a firm believer in the campsite rule; leave the area better than you found it. Leaving cigarette butts on the ground where children play is a part of that. This rule also applies to people.

He climbed the steps and pulled his key out of his pocket, feeling better already with the weight of it in his hand. He put it in the lock and opened it gently, seeing the light on from under the door.  
He stepped in but there were noises coming from the depths of the space that made him freeze right in his tracks.

_No... No he wouldn't._

“Oh _fuuuckk_. Please, fuck me harder.” Breathy moans and cries were coming from Enjolras bedroom. Apparently, neither of them had heard the door open and close. Grantaire didn't believe it. He really didn't.

_This must be some sick joke, right?_

Even though he knew what he was going to see would most definitely feel relatively close to a stab wound, he still had to see it for himself. Grantaire walked carefully into the apartment, making himself quiet. As he got to Enjolras ’ open bedroom door he breathed in deeply, bracing himself before looking in.

Enjolras was on top of a girl, pounding himself into her. The bed where Grantaire had spent so many incredibly joyful nights was shuddering and squeaking at the wight of their activities. Her brown hair splayed out in all different directions as she arched up to his touch. They still had yet to notice him standing there staring. He couldn't look away. It was like a car crash. His voice was caught in his throat and he honestly didn't know what to say.

“What are you doing?” Finally, Grantaire's voice let out. It was tiny and broken but loud enough to be heard apparently. Enjolras quickly looked up and sprang off of the girl he was _fornicating_ with.

The look in Enjolras’ eyes was heart shattering. It was not because he didn't look like himself but exactly the opposite. This was all him.

The guilt washed over his features that Grantaire had loved so much and before he could get a word out, Grantaire was running out of the apartment and throwing up on Enjolras' doormat.

Not even a minute later, Enjolras was standing near him in sweats without a shirt while he knelt in his own vomit that was also smeared near his mouth. He tried to put his hand on his back but he jerked away violently like his touch was made of poison.

“Don't you _dare_ touch me.” His words were made of venom but he was playing it off. He was filled with a deeper despair than any rage could ever fill. This night was just getting worse and worse.

_Hold me. You're the only one who can make this right._

He pulled himself from the ground, brushed the disgusting bile from his jeans, and ran. He ran all the way back to his own apartment, not worrying about his burning lungs or people looking because the streets were nearly empty anyway.

Once he closed his apartment door behind him, he still did not feel safe because that horrible, _ugly_ canvas was still staring at him. Grantaire walked up to it instantly and smeared black paint all over it. The strokes he made were so violent that the black paint splattered, staining parts of his clothes and the carpet. He left the paint to drip over his easel. He then marched into the bathroom and practically ripped his clothes off. He started the shower but as he was taking off his jeans, Enjolras’ key fell out of his pocket and onto the floor.

That was when he finally had started to cry.


	2. Everything We Had

The last time he was here, Grantaire saw his boyfriend of three years cheating on him and then he proceeded to throw up on his doorstep. He cringed at the memory, glancing towards the new mat Enjolras had bought. He can still feel the way he felt while he crouched on the old one with Enjolras’ hand about to touch his skin. He promised himself he wouldn't cry but he already felt himself about to break that promise.

 

After about two months of holing up in his apartment and licking his wounds he finally just wanted his shit back. With much effort and many tears involved he boxed up Enjolras’ things the day after it happened and begged Eponine drop it off for him. He couldn't face him just yet but he didn't want her to pick up his for him. It felt too final, too soon. Besides, that was something he had to do for himself. 

 

Enjolras had asked her how Grantaire was and that he was worried that he wasn’t answering his calls.

 

_ Like you fucking care. _

 

_ “ _ Make sure you box up Grantaire's stuff. He'll get it when he's ready.” That's the only thing she said to him. Grantaire begged her not to say anything else knowing damn well that she would cuss him out if he didn't ask her not to. She just dropped off the box and left as fast as possible to avoid doing just that.

 

Grantaire still has trouble piecing together what he did to Enjolras to make him do something like that. He knows he isn't the greatest but he deserves some human decency.

_Don't I?_

In the healing process, Jehan had been the comfort and Eponine had been the fire under his ass. Although, Eponine was entirely sympathetic, she would absolutely not allow for Grantaire to be as depressed as he was when his mom left him. She never wants him to be anywhere near where he was that year. Jehan had been really gentle and understanding with him through the whole thing and he needed it so badly. He even laid down with him when he was too deep in his hole to move and pre-recorded last years puppy bowl so they could watch it together. Jehan, being the romantic that he was, understood the ins and outs of all of love’s contexts, especially heartbreak.

 

Ponine pushed him outside and made his ass sit in the sun and fresh air for at least 15 minutes everyday. That helped a lot even though she had to physically drag him to get him outside once. He was tired of having them have to look after him like a child so he washed his sheets, opened his blinds, and called it a new day. It wasn't easy and it still isn't easy but he's getting by.

 

Although Grantaire will never admit how much he misses Enjolras, you can bet your ass that he does entirely.

 

The way he could curl up into Enjolras’ side after a hard day and just sleep with his scent in his nose. The way Enjolras made them breakfast everyday. No matter how bad a cook Enjolras was, the food always tasted good when they were together. The way Enjolras would kiss him so sweetly and with so much love. Every touch, word, and kiss from the past three years were packed into two months of dreams and thoughts. All of the good things that happened to him while they were together was filtered through that one horrible, Earth shattering memory of Enjolras thrusting into some random girl like a fucking animal.

 

Now all of those memories just felt like stones to the skull. Every touch felt incredibly empty. Every kiss felt like a burn. Every word felt like a lie. Every single one. 

 

Now that he was here standing there in front of the door he held only one thing in his hand; it was his key. It honestly had meant everything to him when Enjolras gave it to him. It was on their one year anniversary. They had both agreed that they wanted their own spaces but they had always spent the night together at one or the others apartment. It's lucky that they both felt that way. It would've felt ten times worse if he had to move out.

 

He had been staring at the door for a while when Eponine honked the horn of the car waiting for him to knock. She was kicking his ass lately; Eponine was good for that.

 

Opening the door with his key didn't feel right anymore, not after what he saw. 

He knocked on the door.


	3. Goodbye

Enjolras opened the door quickly enough. He looked barely surprised to see him. Just looking at Enjolras’ face and his nonchalance to see him made him break a little more.

 

_ Do I really not mean anything to you?  _

 

“Are you here for your stuff?” His words were blank and meaningless like he wasn't even saying them at all.

 

“Yeah… Can I come in?” 

 

_ You make me feel so small. Why did you do what you did? What we had was so beautiful. _

 

He nodded and led him inside. Grantaire closed the door behind him. Thankfully, the bedroom door was closed. He doesn't think he can ever even look at that bed again.  Enjolras gestured to the three boxes sitting on the floor near the closet. He looked at Grantaire oddly when he didn't just grab the boxes and leave.

 

“Can you just tell me why?” All the confidence Grantaire had worked up on the way over here was absolutely gone now.

 

“I just didn't love you anymore.” His tone was so monotonous that Grantaire looked at him in disbelief. He had so many questions.

 

_ How long have we been living this lie? Who was she? Do you love her?  _

 

“Well why didn't you just tell me instead of fucking some whore in the bed we’ve been sharing for the past three years?” His voice cracked when he called her a whore. She didn't deserve that; she probably didn't even know that Enjolras was dating someone. He felt bad about it right after he said it.

 

“You were just so head over heels for me. I didn't want to hurt you.” That's was it. That pushed Grantaire over the edge. His eyes darkened with this anger that Enjolras had never seen before.

 

“You didn't want to  _ hurt me?! _ You didn't want to  _ fucking hurt me?!!  _ W ell guess what Enjolras, it's a little late for that. Now you don't get to decide what hurt means. I was planning on fucking marrying you one day. You were the best thing that ever happened to me and you just fucking shit on me like I was nothing.” Enjolras had nothing to say at that moment. 

 

_ Just because I don't love you like that anymore doesn't mean I don't care. _

 

He had taken a moment to breathe. Grantaire had never felt anger that intensely in his entire life. He started to speak again, gently this time. 

 

“How long have you been cheating on me?” Enjolras didn't answer at first. He didn't want to hurt Grantaire any further but he owed him the truth.

 

“Since our fight behind the Musain.” His voice was quiet and wounded like he was the one who had been cheated on. He had no right. 

 

“So you mean to tell me that everytime you wanted to ‘finish up some work’ or ‘spend some time alone’ for the past  _ four months _ you've been cheating on me with  _ her _ ?” Grantaire's anger had seeped from him and all that was left was heartbreak. There was a long pause that made the air heavy and hard to breathe in. 

 

“Not just her. There were others.” He didn't want to say it but the whole truth was the only thing he could say. Grantaire went pale and felt the memory return to him once more. The sick feeling washed over him again but he refused to make a mess out of another carpet. Tears had started to well in his eyes.

 

“Listen, I know I'm not the best or brightest or anything that you deserve but,” he stopped to keep himself from breaking into full blown sobs, “I deserve better. I know that now.”

 

“Grantaire I-”

 

“No. You don't get to speak now. Your actions have spoke loud enough.” Grantaire dropped eye contact, not knowing if he could carry on this conversation having those blue eyes that he loves so much staring back at him. “I still love you. I love you so fucking much that it hurts.” He let the tears that were running down his face stay there. He wanted him to know how badly this hurt. “But I can't even look at you without seeing you on top of her and I don't think I ever will.” He looked at Enjolras to see him wiping tears.

 

“It's over, Enjolras. It's clear as day.” Just hearing those words come out of his own mouth were enough to accept them. The most love he has ever felt for another person, gone just like that. He picked up his boxes from the ground and walked out. Trotting down the stairs he didn't know how to feel.

 

_ Free? Desperate? Broken? _

 

When he reached Eponine's car she opened the door and ran to him. He practically dropped his boxes and embraced his friend in a hug for the ages. They were both crying and Enjolras watched the scene from his living room window, not sure whether or not he felt relieved. 

 

“He hurt me so bad ‘Ponine,” he cried into her shoulder.

 

“I know.” She pulled away to look at him and wiped the tears from both of their faces. “Get those boxes in the car. I’ll bring you home.”

 

Grantaire refused to let himself go back to where he was before. Never again. He got a place with Eponine barely a month later where he focussed more on his art and very very slowly he started to get over it. As they say, all the best art comes from broken people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there might be a sequel if people ask for it


End file.
